Mask
by HeyItsMJ
Summary: Zuko always thought he had put the Blue Spirit behind him. But the mask wouldn't leave that easily...
1. Back From Nightmares

**Because I thought I should put the Avatar fans in a Halloween mood :)**

**Much thanks to lorelessbison, for the inspiration, editing, and great ideas!**

* * *

He was sprinting down a long hall, footsteps nearly nonexistent. He felt his palms sweat through the gloves clenching the swords, as pure adrenaline and fear propelled him on. He was a shadow, unseen, untouchable, flying across dark stone walls.

He reached what he'd been looking; the tall, metal door beckoning to him, with his victory prize inside. He pushed the door aside and stepped into the dark room. A single beam of light from the hallway behind him burst through and illuminated what was hidden.

But someone else was waiting inside, waiting for him. A menacing figure, covered in black cloth and brandishing twin blades, horribly twisted blue face laughing at him.

He didn't flinch. This strange opponent was only an opponent, nothing more, and with this thought he spun the swords and struck at the creature. Sparks showered as the steel blades glanced against another metal, leaving long cracks in the surface, and he realized it wasn't a creature at all.

It was _him._

* * *

Zuko awoke, tossing away the sheets as he gasped for air, sweat rolling down his face. It took a few minutes of heavy breathing before his mind placed him in his own room, in the palace, in the Fire Nation. Wrenching himself out of bed, he stumbled to the dresser and summoned a small flame in his palm.

In the mirror, his face was unchanged; shaggy hair, gold eyes, dark streak of a scar. There was no blue skin or curling fangs. He clenched the flame and flopped back onto the mattress, closing his burning eyes against the pillow.

There was groan to his right.

"Zuko, do you _always_ have to be awake when I want to _sleep_?"

Mai sighed and rolled over. Her eyes were closed but her expression was of utmost annoyance.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "Bad dream."

Her face didn't soften. He waited.

"…If I listen to the problems of your subconscious tonight, will you promise not to let them wake me up the next time?"

He rolled onto his back, studying the pattern of the ceiling.

"Mai, did you ever feel…like there's another…person…inside you?"

"For the last time: _no,_ I'm not pregnant."

"No, no! Not like that, just…" he groped for the words to explain this to her. "like…you have another side, a side of you that you can't really control."

Mai sighed. "If this about the anger issue again, I swear—"

"_No!_ It's not that, either! I can't—can't describe—" He turned to face her.

"It started a long time ago. The last year of the war. Zhao had captured Aang…"

* * *

She propped her elbow on the pillow. "So…you were the Blue Spirit all along, then?"

He nodded. "It was an escape. I wasn't Zuko, the banished prince, hated by his father and struggling to gain back his honor. I was…" he stared at the lines crossing his palms, "something else entirely."

Mai settled back down underneath the sheets. "Well, that made for a great late-night campfire story, but I don't get why you lied about the last part."

He frowned. "What are you talking about?"

She sighed, rolling over. "The part about dropping the mask. You didn't leave it behind."

"Mai, what—"

"Oh, in the name of all the Spirits." She slid out of bed, tugging him along with her. She began to rummage through the dresser. Zuko sighed, leaning against the wall.

"Really, I don't get what you're saying, what do you mean I didn't—"

Mai straightened up, holding what she had been looking for.

It felt like Ty Lee had kicked him in the stomach.

In her hand was a blue mask, with narrow white holes for eyes, a squat nose, and lips curved into a wide, leering grin.

Slowly, he reached out until his finger brushed against the thin, painted wood. Instantly, he recoiled. It was not a dream.

"But—how…_how?_" He stared at Mai. "How did you get that?"

She frowned. "Zuko, it's always been here. I thought it was just some weird memento from your first festival or something."

He shook his head, eyes still wide in shock. "No, _no,_ I dropped it in the lake, I watched it sink, I left it behind—"

Mai chuckled. "Obviously you _didn't_, or it wouldn't be here."

"I _did_, I swear did." He ran his hands through his hair. "How—how—I dropped it, _I dropped it_…"

She dropped the mask onto the dresser with a clatter.

"Whatever you say," she said with a yawn, climbing back into bed.


	2. Everyone Fears the Spirits

Zuko stomped down the hall, the ends of his robes fluttering behind him. He shooed away all the servants that approached, but most had the good sense to step out of the way.

Or rather, most knew that he had just come from visiting his father.

Once he had hated the Avatar because he stood in the way of what he wanted most: to prove his worth to his father, of his father coming to love him again.

Now he all but called Aang his brother. It was his father he hated above everything.

He slammed his fist into the wall, sending flames flying and the servants scurrying for water to dowse the burning tapestry. He continued his furious pacing of the palace, muttering curse after curse under his breath as he thought of his father.

Because now his father was the one standing in the way of what he wanted most: his mother.

"_You want to know, Zuko? You really want to know?"_ the cruel laughed echoed in his head. _"Well you can strip me of my throne and my firebending, but I shall hold that secret to the grave."_

He hissed, steam billowing from his mouth. Even years later than when he had first demanded the answer to that question, his father continued to torment him. He was getting further away from any answers with each failed interrogation.

_It's because I'm Zuko, his traitor of a son, _he thought, feet pounding on the lush carpets._ I was never good enough, always a failure to him. And now it's worse, he resents me for winning, and for that he will keep his promise. He'll never tell me._

Zuko growled as he slammed the door to his chambers shut.

_He'll never tell me._

He slumped against the cool metal, head in his hands.

_He'll never tell…_Zuko.

His head shot up, eyes scanning the room.

_But what if I'm not_ Zuko?

He found the dresser and stood up.

_What if someone else can force the answers from him?_

It was in the same place Mai had left it the night before. He had been afraid to move it, to touch it. Now he stroked a finger across the knotted wooden brow. Now, he wasn't afraid. This mask was his friend.

_I can become someone else._

Carefully, he tied the straps in the back of his head and turned to the mirror. A blue demon wearing royal robes stared back at him. Zuko grinned underneath the thin layer of wood, matching the face he wore on the outside. It had been so long, too long, since he had escaped. And_ everyone_ feared the Spirits. It was high time they used that power for an advantage.

That night, while Mai slept in peace, he took his swords and went.


	3. Behind the Mask Again

It was better than his dreams.

He inched steadily up the stone wall, completely silent. His close-fitting black suit didn't even rustle as he slowly crept up the high tower.

Reaching the floor he desired, he hooked one hand over the rail, peered over the edge, and agilely swung onto the narrow walkway. He hurried along the path, ducking under the barred windows, merging with the shadows.

He found a door, and flattened himself against the wall next to it. His heart quickened as he counted the minutes that passed.

Finally, a guard came around the corner, making patrolling rounds. He held his breath as the man came closer, but the guard was oblivious to the figure in the shadows.

Not anymore.

With one quick strike, he brought the hilt of his swords crashing into the back of the guard's head while another hand clapped to the man's mouth, trapping the cry of pain. Carefully, he maneuvered the now unconscious man to lean against the wall, and removed the set of keys from his belt.

The Blue Spirit entered the prison and raced unchallenged down the dark halls.

* * *

But he didn't go without problems.

The hallway seemed unfamiliar. It could have been just that he was seeing it in a different light, at night and through the narrow holes of the mask, but he was starting to doubt he had climbed to the right floor.

Hiding from oncoming guards was becoming harder; the stark blue of the mask could be easily picked out from the bright torches. He thought he would take action against them if it became necessary, but too many missing guards would arouse suspicion.

The fear was starting to take over the adrenaline; his muscles were tiring from commanding his body to be stealthy and silent and his eyes were strained from paranoid scans down darkened halls. The entire idea was beginning to seem impossible, rash, and incredibly stupid. And how was he going to explain himself if caught?

Then, he spotted the door to his father's cell up ahead, and pushed aside his worries. They would have to wait. He had some questions to ask.

And apparently so did someone else. There was a whistling sound, and before he could react, his arm was pinned to the wall. Turning his head, he saw the culprit was a thin, short knife wedged through his sleeve. He wrapped his gloved fingers around the hilt and tried to yank it out, but another dagger cut through the air with deadly precision and pinned that arm as well. He was trapped.

"Zuko, for someone so complex, you are surprisingly predictable."


	4. Zuko and the Blue Spirit

She stepped into view, dark hair glistening like the knife she was spinning between her fingers.

"Mai," he sighed.

"Zuko," she growled.

He wrestled briefly against the stilettos, but they held and she didn't offer to help. Instead, she walked over and casually leaned against the dank wall, as if they were having small talk in the palace garden.

"Honestly Zuko, you should have realized by now that I'm a light sleeper. And although you did well on the stealth, you also forgot I was _trained_ to be absolutely invisible."

If his hands were free, he would've slapped himself on the head.

"Listen," she said plainly, watching the dagger as it twirled around her index finger. "Zuko, I trust you. I think you have good judgment and you've proven yourself in the past. So," her voice dropped dangerously as she slipped the dagger up the sleeve of her robe and punched her finger into his chest, "before I follow my gut instinct and drag you by the hair to the cell next to Azula, I'm going to give you a chance. _Explain yourself_."

With a quick jerk, she wrenched the knives out of his sleeves, freeing his arms.

His gaze dropped to her feet. Her glare was sharper than her knives. So he did what he was asked.

"I—I wanted answers. From my father. The answers he would never give the real me." Now he turned completely around, afraid to face her. "You _know_ how it is, Mai. You know how it's been for years. He'll never crack, never tell me. He's just empty, without any care or remorse for anyone he's hurt or anything he's done."

His eyes grew hot, his vision blurred. "My mother. She's the only thing, the only thing that peace didn't fix, didn't bring back. I couldn't help her. _Zuko _couldn't." His hands slid down his back, finding the hilt of the swords. "But the Blue Spirit has ways. Ways of making people talk, ways of getting what he wants. The Blue Spirit could force my father out of his silence, and find my mother…"

"Zuko…" Mai's brows furrowed. "Zuko, you're not thinking straight. The whole point of ending the war was to stop violence. You said it yourself. Now you're planning on—on _torturing_ your father to get information?"

"If that's what it takes."

"Zuko, stop it! You sound crazy! What's wrong with—" She put a hand on his shoulder and with great strength, pulled him around. "Zuko, take off the mask."

He stared at her. "What? Why?"

"You're not being yourself because of it. You're being the Blue Spirit."

His eyes narrowed. "But I'm not, it's only to—"

"_Take off the mask!_"

He reached behind his head, pulling at the knot. But then his hands shot back. His fingers felt like they had been burned.

"What—" He tried again, only now his whole hands stung the minute they touched the straps.

Becoming worried, he hurriedly tugged off the gloves to get a better grip, but he couldn't even put his arms over his head. His face was burning, like the wood was made of hot coals.

"Ah!" He scrabbled at the mask, tugging at the edges with his nails, but it had seared to his head like hot glue. His breath was trapped in his throat as he clawed wildly to free his face, but all too soon becoming exhausted.

_Why keep trying?_ The voice in his head was not his.

_Why keep failing?_ He wrestled once again with straps, before slumping to his knees.

_That's all trying will get you. _He couldn't move, couldn't breathe. Only his thoughts were racing.

_Just let me take over._ Why not? It would be welcome relief to this burning ache he felt everywhere.

_I'll handle everything. _The Spirit. He would do it for him. Zuko would be safe from failure.

_I can get you want you want. _He wanted his mother back. The Spirit could find her for him.

_No one can deny the Spirits. _His father would pay.

_You are not a Spirit, my friend. _The voice was right. He was tired, tired of racing to keep up when he could never succeed.

_I am. I can help. _Help. He couldn't do anything without it.

_So just give up. Stop trying. _He had only one breath left.

"M—Mai!"

She didn't even bother with the knot. One swipe of the dagger cut the straps clean through, and the mask dropped to the floor.

Slowly, his lungs filled with air again, and he managed to stand, only to grasp Mai tightly to him. The normally stony and unyielding girl was shaking in his arms.

They both turned. The blue mask lay on the prison floor, a smirk boldly stamped upon the grimy stone.

Zuko released Mai and silently grasped his swords, swinging them to get a familiar grip. Sighing a deep breath, he let the fire from his fists crawl up the steel blades.

Then he brought them crashing down, and the mask splintered in two. Flames curled around the fanged sneer until the blue wood was gray ash, and the face of the Blue Spirit was no more.

Taking Mai's trembling hand, Zuko left it behind.


End file.
